


Faitgue

by lover_of_blue_roses



Series: Neil/Everyone [4]
Category: The Beatles
Genre: Cuddling Basically, Fluff, M/M, Neil crushing on everyone, sleepy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 04:20:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28389171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lover_of_blue_roses/pseuds/lover_of_blue_roses
Summary: Ringo is sleepy and Neil is there to take good care of him.
Relationships: Neil Aspinall/Ringo Starr, preslash - Relationship
Series: Neil/Everyone [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1888579
Comments: 2
Kudos: 8





	Faitgue

There's a soft knock at his door. It's so quiet that Neil doesn't think he's heard it, there's so much chaos and ruckus here. "Come in?" He offers back just as quietly, not speaking above a conversational volume, but it's enough.

A head with that all too familiar haircut pokes through, this one on a shorter body, "Hiya, Nell."

"What can I do for you?" Neil asks, as he gets up.

"Oh, oh, nothing, nothing, sit down please. Don't be meaning to disturb you."

Well, it certainly is rare for people to seek him out for 'nothing,' especially now that it's his job to be sought out for ‘something’s, but he takes in Ringo's appearance. The poor scouser looks exhausted, with dark bags under his eyes and a clear weight upon his shoulders. Poor lad was as tired as they get, but unlike the raging songwriting duo, he internalizes it. "I'm just looking for some peace and quiet. Thought I'd just pop a squat and watch the telly if that's alright with you."

"Sure, of course. Please, sit down," Neil offers honestly yet generously. He'd turned the telly down, so it was no more than a low buzz, and he'd barely been following whatever was playing, but he got up to fix that.

"I could-"

"None of that. Eppy's asked me to take care of you lot, least I can do. Just tell me what you want to watch." He'd far rather serve as the television manipulator than their golfer to fetch them any and everything, as they were little more than prisoners in their own hotels. That's what they had Alistair for, leaving him a little bit of time off once he was done setting up their gear.

They pick something at random, whatever movie the third channel is playing, and Neil sets about getting them everything they need. He sets before the couch the tea, the biscuits, and even some pretzels, before dimming the lights. Lastly, as he comes to the couch to sit down, a blanket.

Ringo might baulk at Neil offering it, so Neil plays it more casual than that, draping the both of them in with the blanket, making a big show of wrapping it around himself. Ringo sees this and decides to tuck himself in too, without Neil needing to say anything. "Thanks Nelly," Ringo says softly as they scooch together to both fit under the blanket. They end up thigh-to-thigh, their body heat seeping into each other.

 _Christ_ , Neil thought, blushing. He hadn't set out to have a crush on all four of the lads. It had just kind of happened this way, but at least he knew how the raving birds felt. They were each so different in their own wonderful way, that he didn’t know how he could really see one as above the others. He'd harboured his crush on John for the longest, so that colored things. John, in fact, was his first and honestly only _real_ crush on a man. But for all that he felt kindred with John, he was growing each and every day more and more in love with the whole of them.

He thought on George Martin’s first impression of meeting the Beatles and being unable to figure out who was going to be the front man, the lead singer. Before realizing he would just have to take them as they were. And much how his love for cake didn't spoil his love for chips, so too did he want and care for all the boys, equally but different. And now- God, he was so fucking greedy, he already had two of them but all he did was want more.

Here, Ringo was wanting nothing more than some peace and quiet, an innocent cuddle while Neil was here being a lecherous pervert. Just because the lad was sweet, kind, considerate, funny- Fuck. Neil tried _desperately_ to focus on the film and sip at his tea. Maybe if he drank it slow enough, it could last the whole movie. Ringo rested his head on his shoulder but that was no problem because Neil wasn't going to think about, wasn't going to think about what that straightened hair would feel like between his fingers, wasn't going to think about how the man's ringed and calloused hands would feel trailing over his skin-

Fuck, Neil really needed to leave, he couldn't stay here like this without having worsening thoughts. Ringo really deserved better, he was nothing but a good and loyal friend to Neil, even though he could have seen Neil as nothing but the hired help, little more than a servant. And Neil was throwing all that way, all of their friendship because John and Paul had opened such thinking into his head. Argh, great. Now he was blaming them instead of himself.

He wriggled out of the blanket and off the couch when he realised- Ringo's weight was really on him. Not just like a comfort thing, but like an unconscious thing. Ringo was sleeping- and quietly. He'd long heard the men moan and bitch about Ringo's snoring but here he was, as quiet as a lamb.

Well then. Neil wasn't going to leave him here, and not just because he desperately needed to get away from the man until he could get himself under better control. Because if Ringo was really this tired, and of course he was, Neil had seen that himself, Neil needed to bring him to bed. Ringo's room was being shared with one of the boys, probably George, which meant it was far away from Neil's room, which he was supposedly sharing with some of the other staff. Sure, it was maybe only 500 meters but that was too far for Neil to carry the drummer, unless he got Mal. But surely being that jostled and exposed to the busy, chaotic, loud corridor would wake him up.

No, Ringo would simply go in his bed. And of course, Neil blushed just think about it, Neil would have to sleep somewhere else, find some bed to double up in, maybe sleep in the tub or on those ridiculous American carpets. They were so lush and thick, they’d probably be more comfortable than the porcelain in the bathroom.

With that settled, Neil tucked the blanket around Ringo, making sure none of it was draping off. Then, he lifted the man in a- well, it was called a bridal carry, but that meant nothing. And Neil was going to be laying him down in _his_ bed, the very same bed he had slept in last night- God, would the sheets smell like him? Would Ringo notice?

 _No, no bad thoughts_ , Neil chastised himself. Any other carry would either wake Ringo or need him away to grip on so this was only out of necessity. He told himself this even as he scooped the deceptively heavy man into his hold, and could smell his musk from this close up. God, how had he not noticed when they were cuddled under that blanket? Was it actually that the drummer was overheating and sweating with Neil's heat, the blanket, and being fully dressed?

Neil didn't focus on any of that, trying to think of anything but how tenderly John kissed him now, or how softly Paul touched him. How would Ringo treat him? Sure, he was greedy for wanting more, and he needed to control himself before he ruined everything, but he couldn’t help but to dream and to wish. He carefully removed Ringo's shoes and tucked him under the duvet.

Ringo was starting to stir, so it was best that Neil stopped his poking and prodding, left, and dimmed the lights. But before he can, Ringo's eyes are locked onto his as his hand reaches out to grab his sleeve. Neil waits with bated breath, his weight on his back foot still ready to leave, as Ringo is sure to ask for a cup of water or something else innocuous. "Nelly? Nell, wouldn't you stay?" Ringo asked, almost like a child, tugging at his sleeve.

"Wha?" Neil couldn't comprehend, his hand still lifted to hit the lightswitch.

Ringo scooched back sluggishly, tired. "Nelly," he invited again, almost pleading.

"Oh, okay. Sure," Neil offered, toeing out of his shoes and climbing into bed with Ringo.

The drummer snuggled up tight and warm against him, wrapping his limbs around him like an aggressive octopus might a stuffed bear. "Stay."

"As long as you want me to," Neil replied honestly, turning out the lamp and returning Ringo's cuddles.


End file.
